inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness

When All Else Fails

I can’t believe I’ve written nothing for a couple of weeks – yet there has been so much going on that I can’t quite get a grip on my reaction to it all.  Horrific events around the world, virulent illnesses, the passing of iconic talents, thirteen years gone by since 9/11.  I was in NY that day – and yet to write of that day seems disingenuous.  How the air stank as a disgustingly grey cloud forged uptown.  Shock and disbelief trumped any sense of reality.  Yet, I am here; my family is fine; I didn’t have that much innocence left for the thievery that occurred that day.

And still, this all seems like too much stimuli – I am too pained to be numb and too numb to reveal or touch the pain evinced in my heart.  For reasons unknown to me, I can’t rise above this ache and feel stymied by my limitations with the English language.  Somehow it feels like there’s no recovery period, no chance to re-group, cry the needed tears or resume breathing rhythmically.

This morning broke a bit differently though.  The air is clear, the sky so blue it seems almost as if in a cartoon.  The weariness of the leaves hinted at the promise of colors so vibrant, that the landscape waits with impatience.  And I felt myself inhale for the first time perhaps in weeks.  I drove with all the windows down, letting the breeze in and maybe suffusing the air around me with something fresher and kinder.  Hope, hope – in the moment, for tomorrow, for the moments unseen.  And finally, I bowed my head and cried.


Listening to NPR, this was playing …and I sat in the parking lot and was lifted.  I hope.  And I hope you do too.


68 thoughts on “When All Else Fails”

  1. “..that I can’t quite get a grip on my reaction to it all. Horrific events around the world, virulent illnesses, the passing of iconic talents, thirteen years gone by since 9/11.”

    That is the problem. Most don’t ‘have a grip’.

  2. Sigh… Anything I say is just noise here, Mimi. You’re so tremendously elegant without even trying to be so. And the not trying makes it that much more meaningful. Your writing is a thing of beauty and I am honored to gaze upon it and Sigh 🙂 Thank you for sharing that beauty.

    1. Never Liz – never – you write so well, there’s nothing ‘noisy’ about it. I appreciate it every time you stop by, every time you share your impressions – for I take them into me and they renew as only the words from friendship can..

  3. You are so true a human being of our time Mim…it is often so difficult to find the beauty, the blessings, the happy…a gentlemen reminder that we are all in this together, we are all fallible, yet we are all brothers and sisters in God’s love. .yes my SK.. this is what I read and feel in your words. If only we could all say or the way you do…. I love you

    1. Arguably one of the most beautiful – if not the most beautiful – comment I have read and taken straight to my heart WW. Thank you – all of this horribleness had creeped into my marrow and I truly felt it physically. You are right – we are all in this together – would that we would all feel this pain together and perhaps there would be greater understanding in the you too..

      1. Are you kidding WW – not only am I SK, but I wouldn’t have had any idea that your comments were written by tapping on a phone – good on you babe!! xox

      2. thanks for that…but I cringed when I saw the typos (unintended words…as if my phone had a CLUE what I wanted to say. lol) xoxo

    1. It has been a helluva ride Dave – through days that caused such palpable sorrow. I’m grateful the sky cleared yesterday, easing this disillusionment somewhat..As for the facility with the English language – I’m workin’ on it…;-)

  4. I’ve been thinking about all the scary stuff in the world as well…what does this mean for my children? I have yet to crack a tear though…still stifling it somewhere where I don’t have to truly feel it. It’s such a relief when the tears break through the numbness.

    1. ‘Emptying’ – I think that’s the perfect word. The kick of adrenalin dissipated as the day wore on and was replaced with disbelief and profound dismay. Thanks for stopping by!

  5. It is amazing that after such hugely traumatic events the world marches on, most not being able to really express the fear and pain in their hearts. It does foment, and build until, like you, one day it breaks open. I think we fear touching that pain, until we just have to. I can see how this music brought that out. Beautifully written.

  6. This was such a trying time, wishing that these things didn’t have to happen to anyone. The way you expressed how many of us felt that infamous day, how we just couldn’t believe what happened to our own country’s people was how I felt. I mentioned on my post 2 days ahead, I had to be ‘silent.’ I think having the windows open, hearing and feeling what we have here on Earth, gives us also a bit of Heaven, too. Crying was such a cleansing act, one that really does make the day brighter, afterwards. Hope, Life, embracing it all, feels so good after the ‘rain falls.’

      1. I appreciate the compliment, but really meant it as an added comfort for you and others who may feel still how powerful the sadness can darken our lives. I am glad you have a good family, memories of fine loved ones and a good life, I think this helps us to ‘shake it off,’ a bit. I remember those nice posts about your parents and how I smiled at them, when I read them awhile back… I am an intermittent visitor, so sorry about this…

  7. You know what I always say about that in-between layer? You did it in every paragraph – just when I kept thinking that was it…there it was again. What David said, the carpet ride from ache to light is just well, a great image and true – you make it ok for the rest of us to do the same. xoxoxo

    (ps. somehow I am not getting the emails when you have a new post…sigh, so I am late to this beautiful gathering)

    1. You are never late BonBon – when you arrive, you’re right on time…And you always, always, always enhance the conversation (and brighten my day)…xox

  8. I’m glad to hear that basic goodness washed back over you, Mimi. Tough to digest, still, that awfulness 13 years ago. Now you can get back to digesting other realities. Hang in there, my friend.

  9. I, too, am *dreadfully* late to this thread, but NEVER for lack of love, honey. Your words moved me deeply, as they always do. You have such a graceful way of threading the needle of our complex thoughts during these trying times. “The weariness of the leaves hinted at the promise of colors so vibrant, that the landscape waits with impatience. And I felt myself inhale for the first time perhaps in weeks.” I. Know.That. Feeling. and I am there with you honey, waiting for the exhale and happy to catch you if you fall…always here, always hoping that you are safe and well…. xoxo

  10. Dearest Mimi, I’ve been away from commenting for quite sometime, at least since July. My heart lifted once you returned from the short break this summer and I have read and been nurtured by every word you so eloquently post. The sadness and the joys of life you write about envelope me a way that I embrace, with you, through my heart. You are a blessing to all of us who are fortunate to know you because of your open heart and soul and amazing command of the English language, with all its limitations. You have come very close to breaking the barriers. I missed you Mimi! xo Fran

    1. Hi Fran – It’s SO good to hear from you again and thank you for your generous, generous comments. I can feel your words as a wonderful hug and is always welcome.. Thank you very very much…xox, m

  11. Hard to ever get past what happened to us on 9/11. You expressed your feelings so beautifully. Thank you for doings so. Sharing is good. Blessings to you.

  12. Today, I looked at the “Likes” and saw your blogger name. Somewhere, in the not so distant past or maybe it is, I think that I had subscribed to your blog. But since I’ve been in a virtual fog for about two years, due to illness, I let your blog pass me by. And for that I am sorry.

    The post of September 12th is so beautifully written. I felt your emotion in words that flowed from your heart. Yes, that day is indeed embedded in your memory but as you have written, you are safe physically but not emotionally.

    Those individuals who were directly affected still feel the unending affects and loss of that horrific day.

    My prayer is that our country will never again experiences anything as devastating.

    1. I hope that you are feeling better and well on your way to recovery!! I wish you years and years of good health.

      Thank you for remembering me and stopping by to share your thoughts. My prayer for the world is similar – that we begin to value our time here together – and do all we can to ensure peace.

  13. So true that there is no time to recover from one catastrophic event to the next sensationalized newscast. So hard to remember but too hard to forget. I really liked this entry. Moonstruck

  14. Dear Mimi,

    I just found your blog and it could not have been better timed. i find your writing to be so lyrical and admire your authenticity as you write of the good, the bad and the ugly of life, your enlightened observations about nature, family, and the Universe in all it’s glory. i want you to know that you have made an impact on my life at a time when i needed inspiration and the strength to move forward; i lost my husband 18 mos. ago; we both had cancer at the same time. 8 weeks after his death i was diagnosed with a second cancer and went through 9 months of grueling treatment, alone, without my Beloved. i was a hospice nurse for 30 years – i thought i knew there was no such thing as the “unthinkable”, but life has a way of being arbitrary in how we learn the real lessons, yes? our life together was a like a beautiful song – starting with an anthem of the wonder of finding one another, then verse after verse over 45 years playing out the excitement of creating a family, the expansiveness of gratitude for all our hearts could hold that spilled over so lavishly onto us and those we held dear, and then even over the period of shock and awe our determination to live in the “now”, to savor the tastes, the touches, the fragrances and sights of ordinary days. your writing has restored my soul, my heart, my mind, and my body to once again hear that beautiful song – the one we created together that chapter and verse comforts and sustains me, and the belief once again that though we may not always cling to it, that the Universe is on our side, that it is Love that is always the answer to aching hearts. thank you, MImi, thank you.

    1. Hi Karen,
      I don’t know what to say. Between the blur of tears and my head shaking back in forth with awe and disbelief and humility – how do I even begin to thank you for finding it in your magnificent heart to send me such a transparent, generous, painful and joyous comment? I celebrate the fantastic love you and your husband enjoyed for so many years – through so many triumphs and tragedies. And I suffer your loss with the belief that his memory will forever be a blessing. I pray that you recover quickly and completely, free to once again fully immerse yourself in life. I will hold you in my thoughts – of this you must know.
      Finally, if I have done anything – anything – to make a day better, to revive a smile, to commiserate across the ether in a way that touched you – then I can imagine no better purpose or goal. To think that I may have had that affect on you is humbling – and a little mind-blowing – and awesome. Thank you, thank you Karen…with much appreciation and love, m

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